Infinite Power! Unlimited Pencils!
by RobDaZombie
Summary: An almighty limitless collection of stories from the crazy man-filled universe of Cromartie High School!
1. 2B or not 2B

Story Title; 2B or not 2B

Kamiyama sat down behind his desk and prepared his stationery for the first lesson of the day. As he was about to do this, however, a giant UFO crashed into the left side of his classroom, causing quite the draft outside. Three aliens popped out of the UFO and began milling around the place, possibly looking for candidates to abduct. Kamiyama looked up from his desk, seemingly oblivious to the crash.

"Good morning Bob, Alfred, Xzyodecahadryhon," Kamiyama greeted, waving his hand casually.

"Morning, Kamiyama-kun!" the aliens replied in unison.

Not too long afterwards, an attack helicopter flew into the hole the UFO created; it landed into a group of desks. A soldier somersaulted out of the helicopter, and then the helicopter took off again. The soldier's presence earned a few curious looks from some of the delinquents, for he looked like Guile from the Street fighter computer game series; the only difference was that his punk hair was red instead of blonde. Kamiyama stood up from his desk and shook the man's hand.

"You must be a new student here," remarked Kamiyama, acknowledging the soldier's strong grip, "I'm Kamiyama, what is your name?"

"Soldier," replied the soldier, in a voice so badass, it could make a badass say 'holy crap, that voice is badass.'

Soldier managed to find an empty desk and sat down. As soon as Kamiyama had taken his seat again, a magnificent white horse with wings glided through the hole, with Freddie as his rider. The reason why Freddie exchanged horses was a simple one; this one had wings.

"How's it hanging Freddie," asked Kamiyama.

Freddie returned the greeting with a small nod. He dismounted from his new horse and they both sat in the corner of the classroom.

Hayashida placed a thumb and forefinger between his chin, closing his eyes and nodded approvingly, his violet mohawk swirling in a counter-clockwise fashion.

"I'm impressed Kamiyama!" he said, somewhat surprised, "Three crazy-insane encounters happened, and you didn't even bat an eyelid!"

"Hmmm," Kamiyama began to muse, "that is certainly true, Hayashida. Perhaps I have lived in this high school for so long, that I have simply grown accustomed to such crazy-insane encounters happening."

Since nothing extraordinary happened for the next minute, Kamiyama took this opportunity to withdraw his pencil from his pencil case; he only had one pencil left, because his other pencils were disposed of by that guy who liked to eat pencils.

Suddenly, Kamiyama stared at his pencil, and gasped the most unholiest of gasps. His face turned a ghostly pale.

"WHHHAAAAAT THE HEEEELLLL?!" he bellowed at the top of his voice.

This startled Hayashida, as well as most of the people in the classroom.

"Kamiyama? What's wrong?" panicked Hayashida.

"Look! Look at this!" Kamiyama shouted, showing the pencil to his classmate, "What do you see?"

"A pencil?" Hayashida answered, probably the easiest question his classmate has ever asked him.

Kamiyama pointed the offending piece of equipment inches towards his classmate's face.

"Yes, but not just an ordinary pencil!" he stated, "It's a _2B_ pencil!"

Unsurprisingly, Hayashida was confused. "2B? Two bees? Duo peas? You're not making any sense Kamiyama!"

"Alright, I'll explain," Kamiyama began, "An HB pencil is normally the standard variety of pencil, used by the most typically average normal students such as myself. A 2B pencil, however, is a slightly lighter variant of that of an HB pencil, and thus you have to press down on a 2B pencil slightly firmer in order to display slightly firmer results. For this reason, I find 2B pencils to be exceptionally uncomfortable to use, thus HB pencils in my opinion are infinitely far greater than 2B pencils."

Hayashida gave Kamiyama a blank stare.

"Kamiyama…"

"Yes, what is it Hayashida?"

"…I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That's okay Hayashida. Besides, after my lengthy discussion, I actually feel a little bit calmer."

"Ah, that's good to hear, I think."

Settling down, Kamiyama got out his notebook and prepared to write something down with his challenging new pencil. He pressed the pencil down a little further in order to achieve the desired effects.

…

…

…

The nib broke, and he forgot his sharpener.

_**"WHHHAAAAAT THE HEEEELLLL?!"**_

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Cromartie High School or any of its characters.


	2. A Dish Served Cold

Story Title; A Dish Served Cold

Inside his own apartment, Yamaguchi sat on his favourite chair and stared long and hard at the television screen. His afro pulsated as he tried to comprehend the reason behind the show known as Pootan. When he first heard about Pootan's existence and its alleged humour, Yamaguchi decided to watch Pootan himself, wondering if Pootan was as funny as the world claimed to be. Yamaguchi thought that Pootan was primarily aimed for children, since the main characters wore white and pink bunny and bear outfits… but according to rumour, it was supposed to be funny for teenagers and adults as well, so Pootan was in fact an all-ages comedy show.

This was the time where Yamaguchi entered a world of turmoil and confusion, for after just watching a few episodes of Pootan, Yamaguchi either found the humour of this show to be terrible, really terrible, or just plain non-existent. As far as Yamaguchi was concerned, he was the only human being alive that did not like Pootan; he felt like a black sheep drowning in an ocean of white wool. This annoyed Yamaguchi because in spite of his menacing appearance, he actually enjoyed humour. In fact, he enjoyed humour on a very wide scale.

Yamaguchi then came to a conclusion; maybe _he_ was the one at fault here. Maybe he found it unfunny because his own style of humour was out of date. With this theory piercing into his brain, Yamaguchi tried to enjoy watching Pootan, even going as far as becoming a fan of Pootan. But then he realised that everyone was a fan of Pootan; was he a fan of Pootan just because everyone else was a fan of Pootan? If so, then all that Yamaguchi had achieved was become a white sheep in a white wool factory. In other words, Yamaguchi had become a fan just because he didn't want to be the only one that wasn't a fan – and he concluded that was a pretty baseless reason. One cannot become a fan just because everyone else is a fan. That theory is as weak as supporting a soccer team, and then switching to another soccer team, just because that soccer team are higher up in the league.

With all of his theories, queries and accusations, Yamaguchi found himself back to square one – well, nearly square one anyway; it was more like square two and a half. He reverted from being a fan of Pootan back to being a non-fan. Yamaguchi still continued watching the show, but with a fresh state of mind. He would decide that he would only become a fan of Pootan, if Pootan actually entertained him a number of times. After all, comedy, no matter what shape or form it possessed, was only comedy if it made one entertained.

Yamaguchi continued staring long and hard at the Pootan show, his eyes narrowing as he tried to detect any hints or traces of comedic value this show had the possibility of offering. Tonight was a three-hour long special, so Yamaguchi wagered there was bound to be something chuckle-some in this lengthy duration.

One hour passed by. Pootan and his friend were playing hopscotch on a playground. Nothing remotely funny about that, Yamaguchi thought, unless he was five years old and was devoid of all but five brain cells. Yamaguchi frowned.

The next hour passed by. Pootan and his friend were playing a game of catch on an open field. Aside from Pootan wearing a ridiculously oversized bright yellow baseball glove, Yamaguchi found nothing particularly amusing about this segment either. Yamaguchi frowned some more.

The show was now close to the three-hour mark, and Yamaguchi was on the verge of falling asleep. Nothing remotely interesting was happening, so it was understandable that he was bored to a state of near unconsciousness. During this near three-hour mark, Pootan's friend was currently in the dining room, sitting by the dining room table, impatiently waiting for Pootan to show up. Two plates of salad were on the table.

"Hey! Poo!" Pootan's friend called out, "Hurry up, or your salad will get cold!"

"Coming," replied Pootan, in a very nonchalant voice.

Yamaguchi watched on as the two characters tucked into their very green salad.

He then gasped and widened his eyes in sheer surprise.

"_Wait a minute!" _Yamaguchi thought, recollecting what happened five seconds ago.

**Flashback - Five seconds ago**

"Hey! Poo!" Pootan's friend called out, "Hurry up, or your SALAD will get COLD!"

"Coming," replied Pootan, in a very nonchalant voice.

**End of flashback**

"_I s__ee!" _Yamaguchi analysed in amazement, _"Salads are already cold to begin with, so saying 'your salad will get cold' is a completely irrelevant __statement to make! In conclusion__…__…__that line was actually quite funny!"_

As the two comedians were still munching into their salad, the credits scrolled up from the screen. The three-hour special was officially over. Yamaguchi nodded to himself, seemingly filled with satisfaction.

"_Very good Pootan. That was a swift delivery of subtle yet remarkable humour. It was a very enjoyable experience that I had the pleasure of tuning into. Yes indeed."_

The last line of the credits scrolled up before finally disappearing. Yamaguchi, with folded arms, continued watching the screen.

The happy musical soundtrack faded away.

"_Who am I__ kidding?!" _Yamaguchi thought angrily, suddenly in a fetal position in one corner of the room, _"I just wasted three hours of my life watching this, not to mention all of the countless hours I've watched Pootan during the last few months! All f__or just one stupid joke?! They were playing hopscotch and catch for two thirds of that show! None of it made any goddam sense!"_


End file.
